


The Crane-Mills Expedition

by chelseagirl



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/pseuds/chelseagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katrina is back in the land of the living, which means that Abbie now has not one, but two, oddly dressed time travelers in her wake.  My take on the shopping story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crane-Mills Expedition

Were Cranes like ducklings? Abbie wondered. They seem to imprint on me and follow me everywhere.

Okay, they were living in Corbin’s cabin, and not actually camped out in her living room (that was Jenny, and Abbie had begun to think that a larger apartment was in order, in any case). But in the past months, Abbie had gotten used to spending most of her waking hours in Ichabod’s company, and now that Katrina had returned to the land of the living, she’d been added to the mix as well.

“It’s not that her knowledge isn’t extremely useful to the work we’re doing,” Abbie resumed. “It’s not that I don’t understand that right now, you don’t really want to let her out of your sight. But one historical consultant on leave from Oxford was tricky enough to explain. Now there are two of you. And you’re not exactly, well, inconspicuous.”

“Because I’m so tall,” said Ichabod, helpfully.

“Because you . . . I get why you keep wearing those clothes, okay? I understand that you don’t suddenly want to start rocking jeans and a hoodie. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable for you, it’s a link to the life you left behind. I get that. But the two of you together, you look like you’re on your way to a Goth night or something.”

“So, lieutenant, what you’re saying is that it would make things easier for all concerned if Katrina and I were to purchase new clothes? All right. At your earliest convenience, we’ll go on a shopping expedition, as you call it.” He paused, frowned. “Also, what is a . . . Goth night? Does it have something to do with the invaders of ancient Rome?”

* * * 

They went to the big mall in White Plains, but it was hopeless. Ichabod tried on Dockers, and Abbie couldn’t keep a straight face. They went into a store that sold men’s suits, but Abbie steered him out again as soon as she noticed the way his face fell as he looked out at the vast array of gray and navy. He tried jeans and a cashmere sweater, and she felt hopeful when he stroked the arm, enjoying the softness, but once he caught sight of the price tag, he developed an expression of serious alarm.

“Three hundred dollars for a single garment? I’ve lived on that much for a year.” He returned to the fitting room, and when he came out again, in his original shirt, he handed the sweater to Abbie as though he were handling something extremely breakable.

They caught up with Jenny and Katrina at the Gap. The Mills sisters exchanged pained looks, each noticing the lack of packages carried by their respective charges. 

“Everything’s too short, too tight, not tight enough. I thought she’d enjoy the freedom of trousers, but it turns out if you’ve never worn skinny jeans before, they’re . . . ‘extraordinarily constricting.’ This from a woman who wears corsets.” Jenny rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take them to the city this weekend.”

“I’ll be conveniently unavailable,” said Jenny.

Abbie couldn’t blame her.

* * *

On the way into Macy’s, Ichabod noted hopefully, “World’s Largest Store? Surely there will be something suitable.”

On the way out of Macy’s, several hours later, Katrina held a bag that contained a lacy Victorian-style nightgown, and Ichabod had purchased socks. Abbie was clutching a mega-grande latte from one of the many in-store Starbucks, and wishing she had something to spike it with.

On the way out of Saks Fifth Avenue, after another few hours, Katrina held a bag that contained a lacy camisole, and Ichabod had condescended to purchase boxer-briefs. Abbie was desperately looking around for a bar.

As they each enjoyed a large rum toddy, Abbie felt herself being nudged. Katrina whispered, “the innkeeper – I rather like what she is wearing.” 

A word to the bartender, who was happy to oblige, and moments later they were in a taxi, on their way to a boutique in the East Village.

It was a small shop, which sold only women’s clothing, so Ichabod sat on the couch that was helpfully provided, and petted a small dog. Katrina picked out a dark lace-and-satin dress in a drop-waisted style. It came to mid-calf, and Abbie noticed that Katrina was looking nervously at her bare lower legs. 

“You’d totally want to wear this with boots, and opaque tights. And you can wear it to work with a jacket,” said the salesgirl, helpfully.

Katrina brightened, and Abbie paid the bill and hustled them out of the store. “Okay, guys, back to Grand Central, back to Sleepy Hollow. I am officially defeated by shopping with the Cranes.” But then she realized where they were, not far from Corbin’s favorite bookstore. “Actually, I’d like to stop by the Strand first. You’ll like it. Books. Old ones, new ones.”

When Ichabod started to protest that the Strand was a thoroughfare in London, Abbie pulled Katrina aside and pointed out the spire of the Empire State Building, in the distance. “It’s much further away than it seems . . . “

Suddenly, there was a shout. “Katrina! Miss Mills! Come quickly!” 

They found Ichabod standing in a shop window. Katrina exclaimed. “Oh, Ichabod, it’s perfect!”

In the window were men’s frock coats, in 18th and 19th century styles. There was a long, multilayered skirt, paired with a brocade corset, and a cropped black-on-black jacket with elaborate silver clasps. (There was also a beaded flapper dress and a rubber bondage jacket, but it was clear the Cranes were oblivious to those.)

Abbie looked at the sign above the window. “Gothic Renaissance. Figures.”

On the way out of Gothic Renaissance, an hour or so later, Katrina held a number of bags containing corsets, long skirts with petticoats, lacy black blouses, and fitted brocade jackets, and Ichabod had purchased several frock coats, some poet’s shirts, and some narrow black trousers. Abbie was holding a bag with a black velvet minidress that had a cute 1960s vibe, and was nursing a determination to never, ever take a Crane clothes-shopping, ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like Ichabod's wardrobe, and don't want to see him in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, particularly. Katrina's is all over the board, from that very un-18th century Goth dress she's wearing in Purgatory, to her lovely 18th century formal dress, and the show's somewhat peculiar notion of what Quakers and nurses wore at the time.
> 
> The East Village boutique where Katrina buys a dress is real, but sadly, recently went out of business. (The small dog is named Fletcher.) Gothic Renaissance continues to flourish, and when I walked past the other day, thought, "hey, that's where Ichabod could find the kind of clothes he'd relate to. And Katrina could get more unfortunate un-18th century Goth dresses." And now I have the image of Corbin and Abbie browsing for books at the Strand . . . Yup. That's what happens when a new fandom strikes, eh?
> 
> ETA: OK, buying from reenactors, canon? Works for me! I still like mine, though. (THANK YOU for letting Ichabod keep his signature look, in any case.)


End file.
